


incidentally

by nagare



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower Spoilers, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Red String of Fate, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22083730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagare/pseuds/nagare
Summary: Arianrhod is ravaged, and everyone is stressed. On top of that, Ferdinand makes the mistake of letting his mind wander to his mystery soulmate, whom he had pushed to the corner of his mind for five years.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 12
Kudos: 181
Collections: Ferdiebert Secret Santa 2019 Edition





	incidentally

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Princess_Kurenai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Kurenai/gifts).



> written for ferdibert discord secret santa, with the soulmate with slight angst prompt.

When news of Arianrhod arrived, the brief surge in army morale from their hard-fought victory dissipated in an instant. Edelgard and Byleth quickly rounded up the generals and a few messengers, giving a debrief of the situation, and an ultimatum. The church must _pay_ . It worked, in a sense, and the initial panic and shock among the crowd soon melted into more productive emotions. Compassion. Vengeance. It was war, things must be _done_ before they could have the simple luxury of having time to themselves to lament, to grieve.

Mercedes threw herself at the first caravan off to offer emergency aid, uncharacteristically adamant on her decision. Jeritza wordlessly followed along, and Manuela, though she could not hide the horror on her face, also swiftly left with them. Linhardt was then effectively left in charge of medical attention for those who were still at the monastery, and Ferdinand felt as if he had never seen the other man look paler in his life. Hubert was barking out orders left and right, his face stricken with smoldering fury, when he had only hours earlier, in perhaps the most sincere smile anyone had seen from the gloomy man yet, declared that everyone had performed strikingly well, capturing the Silver Maiden with the fewest casualties possible. Oh, too soon had he spoken. Ferdinand was similarly inundated with responsibilities he thought he could put off for at _least_ one more day, considering how exhausted everyone was from the march back to the monastery. When his last battalion set off in search of any emergency supplies they could scrounge up for their regiment at Arianrhod, he let himself collapse into the nearest bench, and buried his face in his hands. 

Ferdinand felt the planks of the bench sink slightly lower beneath him, and the unmistakable warmth of another person next to him. He did not move to look at them, hoping that they would just quietly leave soon, and never speak of catching him in this moment of weakness. He had no such luck though, and when several seconds passed in silence, he eventually ventured a glance at his uninvited company. 

Of course, it was the professor. She seemed to stare right into his soul, all while fiddling absentmindedly with his soulmate thread and twirling it lazily around her fingers. Ferdinand flustered a little at this; it’s something he would never get used to, seeing something that had been so private and personal all his life being handled so casually by someone else, and not even his partner! But Byleth Eisner had always been an anomaly ever since she stepped into his life, no, everyone’s lives, and Ferdinand would very much like to think that despite everything, or maybe because of everything, that he could call her a friend. 

“Good day, professor.” Ferdinand grimaced inwardly at how his voice croaked a bit, still sore from shouting out orders. But, this strange silence was getting too much to bear for him. “Is my thread still that interesting for you to play with it so?” 

Her expression at least seemed to shift into something close to apologetic.

“It is pretty, the prettiest shade I’ve seen,” she answered, quite bluntly. 

Ferdinand looked at her strangely, because it was the first she’d spoken of this. She had first revealed to him that she could see the threads of others by pure chance, because his thread was so long and convoluted and she had never seen anything quite like it before. It was a long time ago, and he once preened at having been called special, especially in the eyes of someone as well respected as their professor. He recalled with slight fondness his academy days, when he spent every free moment trying to track down the person at the end of his thread. But there never was an end, even as the red stained his thread further by the day, and then they all got caught in a bloody war. Now, he is just tired. 

“Are they not all red?” 

She paused her twiddling to think for a moment, and then gently reached over slightly to drop the thread in his own lap, its coils pooling at the dip between his legs. “They are, but they are not, too. Yours,” she began, curiously tilting her head to look into his eyes searchingly, “are dyed deep with devotion.” 

Ferdinand swallowed. A certain someone came to mind, and Ferdinand did not say it out loud, but he asserted internally that devotion was a word far more suited for them. As for his soulmate thread, draped in loops across his lap, he once found it to be a beacon of hope for him. A promise of a glittering future full of love and satisfaction and grandeur that would reward him for the treacherous path he had chosen to follow in Edelgard’s wake. But as they became more deeply entrenched in the war, he had come quite roughly to terms with the realisation that personal feelings, daydreams, could very easily be the end of him. Or even worse, the rest of the army that relied on him to perform. And even more troublingly, now that there was someone…

He quickly cut that thought off before it could unearth a can of worms that he was, frankly, not ready to face. Suddenly uncomfortable, he fumbled around with his thoughts in an attempt to answer Byleth. He did not find a satisfactory response, but he did internally curse himself when against his better judgement, the self berating words that were at the tip of his tongue started spilling out as they were typically wont to do around his quaint professor’s presence.

“Devotion alone is not enough to win a war, and once again I find myself sorely wanting. In so many areas.” He knew he was powerless to save those at Arianrhod, but it stung all the same. 

This was not the first, nor would it be the last time they would have this conversation. Like clockwork, Ferdinand would be on the brink of having his frustration spill out, pacing the soles off of his boots, and Byleth would conveniently stumble by, ask how he was doing, and listen intently to the truths he was unwilling to burden others with. She would let him talk, let him ramble and eventually collect his thoughts, and he would pick himself up by his own bootstraps, because she knew how his pride made him reject more direct forms of support. 

But, Byleth was that pillar of strength for everyone. Ferdinand knew she was a safe option, because she did not gossip, and she did not visibly show any of the burden that acting as everyone’s emotional anchor entailed, and she did not judge. It felt like confiding to a wall, sometimes, and at times, he felt endlessly guilty for treating his professor that way. This once, he excused himself because he had to use any means necessary to make sure he stayed afloat. 

Byleth stayed silent. Was guilt eating at her, too? 

“I am not asking for reassurance,” Ferdinand continued, a frantic reminder more for his own benefit rather than hers. “I will keep moving forward, all the same, and I will fight for Edelgard and her cause to my very last breath. I have cast aside my father. I have let go of my fixation for making a name for myself. And I have worked tirelessly in the Empire’s name to minimise our losses. But, it seems this is still not enough. I feel as if I am running out of ways to be stronger. More useful.” 

He did not notice how hard he was gripping the fabric of his trousers in frustration, until Byleth’s hand found its way around his wrist.

“There is always something.” With surety, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, she echoed the words he spoke to her once before. Her gaze did not leave his. He allowed her to pry his shaking fingers open, and he allowed her to tuck his thread into his grasp. His fingers clutched inwards, and bile rose to his throat.

“We are at war, I do not have time—”

“We don’t,” she agreed, the first time since Jeralt’s passing that he could make out the hint of genuine pain starting to strain her voice. She also was not prone to the habit of interrupting others, always the epitome of patience and restraint, and Ferdinand was doubly taken aback. “Ferdinand, go.” 

_Before it’s too late_ , went unspoken. 

His throat felt dry as he searched for an excuse, a protest. He came up short. “Do you… do you know? Who it is, I mean.” 

“No, but I think _you_ do.” Before he could protest and ask what she meant with that, because he didn’t, he truly didn’t have a clue who his soulmate was, because they had spent the better half of a decade leading him on a wild goose chase around the monastery and he truthfully does not even know if they are even still in Garegg Mach anymore, Byleth stood up, a familiar glint in her green eyes. The appraising and hawk-like look of a seasoned mercenary, a steel-hearted tactician. “Your maneuverability in air has always been excellent, but your axe swings are still too wide, and leave you open to counterattack. I’ve left pointers in the cardinal’s room, if you would like to browse through them, so that you are not left alone with your thoughts.” 

Ferdinand threw his head back and laughed. He had not felt so seen through in ages. The cheeky smile that flashed across Byleth’s face did a great deal in lifting a weight off his chest, once again reminding him that he was at his best when he was moving forward. Not ruminating over the past, not lamenting his missed opportunities. 

* * *

Pondering Byleth’s words, Ferdinand trudged up the winding staircase. There were flickers of red wound around the handrails, a familiar taunt met with unflinching eyes, something his weary heart had long gotten used to. His soulmate thread once was his pride and joy, yet now, he did not remember the last time he allowed it to be at the forefront of his mind. Perhaps it was a year ago, when the Faerghus army grew bold and seemed to sieged their fronts endlessly, leaving the lot of them with sleepless nights and aching bones. Perhaps it was even earlier, when the elder Aegir had been caught violating his terms house arrest, and with it the last bit of faith his son bore in his ability to change. Ferdinand was not punished at all for his father’s misdeeds, not explicitly, but he knew he was being scrutinised extensively and forced himself to redouble his efforts. Or perhaps it was even earlier than that, when their professor had all but vanished into thin air as the Immaculate One flew off, her wings of white a mockery of angels and justice. Ferdinand recalled the scene, with painful clarity: Edelgard clawed uselessly at the rubble, her beleaguered expression and hunched shoulders horribly unbefitting someone of her age. 

His memory was a haze from then on, as duty called, and they were all forced to grow up. Ferdinand stopped conflating red with romance, and instead with war: the blood that sprayed everywhere in the fray, the Adrestian banner that flew proudly above their troops, and Edelgard’s crimson back, standing tall despite the burdens she bore. And even his own uniform, which he endeavoured to represent with deep red his undying loyalty to her and her cause, complemented by a striking navy blue, a stark reminder of how their ideals still clashed. 

Ferdinand had been seeing red for so long, that it simply did not catch his eye anymore. Not the way it fluttered in the corner of his eye, where it could be a distraction on the battlefield. Not the way it seemed to be so inextricably tangled around the monastery, where it could tempt him into false hope thinking they might be waiting just beyond those dark corridors. He felt strangely conscious of it now, after Byleth had finally brought it up again after years of his quietly letting his heart make peace. 

His heart was not quite prepared to turn the corner and find Hubert cutting a lonesome figure, skulking in the most dimly lit corner of the council room and wearing the sourest expression Ferdinand had seen in months. Nonetheless, he wore his brightest smile as he barged into the room. Surely, even Hubert would appreciate some sort of levity or company in this time of crisis. And even if he tried to refuse, Ferdinand assumed it upon himself to ensure that the gloomy man wouldn’t overwork himself to death alone. “Hubert! You seem quite busy.” 

Hubert looked up, his troubled expression losing some of its edge. (Ferdinand felt his own heart ease a bit at the sight.) “Ferdinand,” he grunted, before turning his eyes back to the stack of papers in hand. “Do you have business with me, or with these?” 

“Ah,” Ferdinand blinked. “Would those happen to be the professor’s battle notes?” The cogs in his head turned; there was an excellent chance this meeting was Byleth’s intention from the very start. He felt played like a fiddle.

“Indeed, complete with devastating insight into all our flaws and weaknesses,” Hubert chuckled dryly. “I have committed most of our biographical information to memory, but I concede she has a far more discerning eye than I do when it comes to battle strategies.”

“Her observations truly are impressive,” Ferdinand nodded. He did not say it out loud, but he was almost afraid to pick up his own files now. There’s a nonzero chance Byleth would have written down in fat red letters, under his name, _Weaknesses: imperial ministers of the Vestra variety._ His stomach did a tumble at the thought.

“Yet, she has entrusted me with drafting out our formation for our next target.” A hint of resignation was present in Hubert’s voice. It was a feeling Ferdinand understood all too well.

He frowned. “Hubert, you are clearly the finest person to delegate for this. You have been directing the movements of the imperial army diligently for the past several years.” 

“Mere diligence is not enough,” he groused, before neatly collecting the papers and offering it to Ferdinand. 

Ferdinand did not move to take them, and instead pulled out two chairs, sitting down in one and motioning for Hubert to take the other seat beside him. “Perhaps not. But another opinion might do the trick. Come, two minds are better than one.” 

Hesitation drew across Hubert’s face, but he collected himself quickly and sighed. Ferdinand’s mouth quirked upwards as Hubert plopped down beside him, their elbows jostling against each other as Hubert began to lay out the papers in front of them. “Very well. Arianrhod was a disaster, but we cannot waste any time lest we lose the momentum our men’s lives have bought.”

And this, Ferdinand agreed with. 

\--

Several visits from Ashe for supplemental snacks and tea and coffee later, parchment with hastily drawn diagrams were scattered all over the council tables, and two empty cups sat abandoned at their side. The hour was late, and their last candle almost melted to its base. Ferdinand made to go fetch another, but Hubert stopped him in his tracks. “Ferdinand. I think we’ve done enough for today.” 

Indeed, fatigue was seeping through Ferdinand’s veins, and it was only through the sheer power of will (and the icy way Hubert cut through his arguments, relentlessly edging him to offer more) that he could still find the energy to scribble furiously on the planning parchment. Furthermore, though both their spirits seemed to be much better than before, Hubert looked dreadfully pale as well, and Ferdinand didn’t want to exacerbate that man’s horrible work ethic. Even so, he still did not like to concede defeat, and sighed. “I suppose you have the right of it. We can continue tomorrow.” 

“Indeed. Come, I’ll escort you to your quarters.”

Ferdinand stared dumbly at the hand preoffered towards him, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate from exhaustion. 

Hubert withdrew his hand, and stood up. He seemed as if he was ready to excuse himself from the room at any moment.

“I—” Ferdinand blurted out, standing up in a rush and feeling horribly afraid of something, but he couldn’t place his hand on exactly what. “—was planning to go for a stroll before I retire, actually. To get some fresh air to clear my thoughts. Would you still like to join me?” 

“Of course,” Hubert croaked, voice suspiciously small. But Ferdinand was content to revel in this small victory, and did not dare press the issue lest Hubert admit he was actually unwilling, and just too polite to decline at first. 

The two of them walked the length of the staircase in silence, their stiff footsteps and the distant murmurs of conversation in the reception hall the only sounds ringing in their ears. Ferdinand vaguely tried to think of something to say, but something about their earlier exchange left him feeling rattled, and Hubert hovering right over his shoulder in pace certainly wasn’t helping things.

They had been meandering about aimlessly for a bit, before Hubert finally spoke. “Do you have a destination in mind?” 

Ferdinand did not know how to answer this, because in a way, he did, and in a way, he didn’t. He had been absentmindedly following his thread, because his head was filled with a great many thoughts he had no good resolution for. He eventually settled for a half-truth, eyes averted from the man beside him. “Do you remember the tallest tree in the courtyard, by our classrooms?” 

A hint of amusement made its way into Hubert’s voice. “It was singed quite heavily by the archbishop’s flame, so I would not call it the tallest anymore. But, I do believe I know the very one. Right up ahead of us, in fact.”

The two of them stopped underneath it, small tufts of misty breath present in the nighttime air. Rhea truly did do a number on it; the poor tree was still standing, and new foliage did a decent job at covering the burns, but some bits of it were still irreparably damaged. There was indeed as much thread hanging from the branches of this tree as he remembered, and it radiating in several directions. He picked up one of the loops, tugging it gently in his fingers, before he let go once more. Still as stubbornly entrenched in it as ever, and he almost wanted to laugh at himself for thinking it would be any different even now. Ferdinand never really knew which way to follow it, and once had the foolhardy idea of forcibly unwinding it from the branches. It had been a pointless endeavour in the end, but still served as an entertaining anecdote.

Ferdinand’s voice rang out in a merry laugh, a small amount of stress fleeing from his shoulders. “Actually, I remember someone relentlessly taunting me from right here. I believe he was leaning coolly against the trunk with his arms crossed, dedicating an entire hour of his time to jeer at me when he surely had more pressing matters at hand. I wonder if that scoundrel has changed his dastardly ways by now.” 

“How unfortunate. In a completely unrelated note, I also recall a certain fool decided to scamper all the way to the top of it for the most ridiculous of reasons, something about chasing his soulmate thread, and broke three branches and a bone on his way down.”

Ferdinand flushed, hoping that particular detail would have escaped his memory, but Hubert had always been excellent at cataloguing his lowest points. “I was simply indulging in the wayward fantasies of my youth, thank you very much. You should try it sometime, so that your brows will not always look permanently knit.” 

“Implying you outgrew such fancies,” Hubert fired back, without any bite.

Ferdinand faltered, nonetheless. “I… I am not sure when, but I think I did. Outgrow them.” 

The air suddenly felt much colder than it was before, their bout of camaraderie dashed against a painful memory.

“Is that so.” Hubert’s expression was unreadable. 

Irritation bubbled up in Ferdinand’s stomach. “We went to war, Hubert. I would thank you not to see me as the same naive boy I once was. I have dedicated the full extent of my attention to our cause. I’ve never even spoken of it for years, in fact.” 

Hubert’s shoulders tensed. His voice stayed level, but Ferdinand was now attuned to the smallest of signs that Hubert was bothered by something. “If I still deemed you unworthy of Lady Edelgard’s cause, I would have long disposed of you. And yet, you are still here. Is my opinion of you unclear?” 

Ferdinand stayed quiet, silently fuming over the smallest of slights. He had an inkling as to why he was feeling so furious with Hubert, but the answer was so wholly irrational that he could not bear to voice it even to himself. The web of red of the string tangled in the foliage of this very tree was taunting him further, and he suddenly wanted to tear them out. Rip them to shreds, even.

“I believe you,” Hubert finally conceded quietly, after he realised Ferdinand was not going to answer. His continuation, even softer. “I simply thought you were just exercising restraint in not mentioning it around Lady Edelgard.”

“That was part of it,” Ferdinand admitted. “But things started to change, too fast. I had no time to think about a rosy future when I was not even sure if I would live that long. And— I was reluctant to admit it until now, Hubert, but I think you were right all along. I do not want to blindly follow along whatever path was preordained for me. Goddess knows, I have already had enough of that from my father.” 

Hubert looked like he had something to say, but Ferdinand found himself raising his voice, the grievances he’d been harboring in his heart for years finally spilling out, unadulterated and raw. “What if they become a liability, and held hostage against me? This war is more important to me than any single person could be. How could I claim to offer myself wholly to them if it is a blatant lie? Would they understand if I chose to die for Edelgard and our country, over living for them? Could they ever even come as close to an understanding as we do?” A short pause, and the last words of his the most bitter of them all. “I cannot even imagine they would like me very much, considering what kind of wall they have built up in their heart against me. I had been chasing them for years, and received not even an ounce of that fervor in return.”

There. It was now all out there, the thoughts he had been reluctant to voice to Byleth, or Dorothea, or anyone else who would have been fully willing to indulge in his prior romantic fantasies. Ferdinand did not imagine he would be telling all of this to Hubert of all people, who had made it very clear that he thought this soulmate business was a bunch of hogwash and only held his tongue because Edelgard clearly cared about hers. It was oddly fitting though, seeing as Hubert was—for a great many reasons— the root of Ferdinand’s growing emotional distance with his soulmate.

“Hell—Ferdinand, having… someone in your heart is not a liability,” Hubert lamely answered, and for the second time that night Ferdinand thought he was going insane and hearing things. Surely this was some weak but earnest attempt from Hubert to cheer him up, and the thought almost made him smile amidst his frustration. But Hubert kept speaking, a strange intonation in his words and a stranger desperation in his eyes, as he fumbled to address Ferdinand’s concerns in an arbitrary order. 

“You don’t have to completely shut out your personal desires. I— Edel— _we_ know the extent of your loyalty. Sorely tested the limits of it, even. I have no love for the goddess myself, but I care little what others think of her, and only said those words back then to shut you up. To vex you,” he gritted out. “And it’s quite clear by now that we do not understand each other as well as you claim.” 

Ferdinand slammed his fist against the tree, ignoring the jolt of pain that ran up his arm. It stung, Hubert’s words moreso than the physical pain, but Ferdinand refused to flinch. A few flakes of dead leaves fluttered downwards, as shriveled up and brittle as Ferdinand’s heart surely was right now. Hubert gazed back at his display with infuriating temperance.

“Clearly not!” he all but spat out. “Clearly, you do not see the core of the issue here. For all you love to gloat about your infallible spy network, you missed the biggest point I was trying to make, so I am left with no choice but to spell it out for you. I am saying, I would choose _you_ , Hubert.” 

In the heat of the moment, Ferdinand vaguely knew, in a sense. That he could take back part of what he said, steer back into safer waters. Keep that last bit of plausible deniability going, and the two of them could continue on in their merry way, taking tea and drafting plans as usual. 

He didn’t. 

“It is irrelevant to me, whoever my accursed soulmate is, because I would not give up our time at tea together, nor our rightful places at Edelgard’s side as she brings Fodlan to a brighter future. I would always choose Adrestia. I would always choose you.”

Hubert’s face turned a wonderful shade of crimson in a matter of seconds, and Ferdinand was sure his own was faring no better. The adrenaline high of anger was quickly fading away, and in its place grew the mounting horror that he had indeed, just laid his most uncomfortable secret out to bear. All because Hubert had to be so horribly accommodating in the worst way, by telling him that he didn’t care if Ferdinand went off and fell in love with someone else when Hubert had been the only one he’d been looking at for years. 

A familiar feeling of shame and regret hit him, and he wanted to run away, suddenly. To have some time to himself to figure out how to do damage control. “I—I will take my leave now. Forget it. We have to wake up tomorrow for drills—” 

Ferdinand found his escape route suddenly intercepted, and his body uncomfortably caged in on all sides. Hubert’s chest. Arms. This blasted tree. He tried to duck under one of Hubert’s arms, but Hubert grabbed his wrist with surprising swiftness from someone who did nothing but fling spells and keep books all day, and Ferdinand had no choice but to reluctantly stay in place and avoid eye contact. 

“Ferdinand, calm down,” Hubert gasped out, his voice incredibly strained and low. “Please don’t run. Did you mean what you said?” 

“I did. Every word of it.” Ferdinand did not look up, wary of whatever look of revulsion Hubert was probably wearing on his face. 

“I see. I need you to answer one more question.” Hubert sounded anxious, so Ferdinand finally grew the bit of courage he needed to check his expression. He still looked flustered, less so, but he did not look angry. Ferdinand nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat, still afraid to ask for a proper answer to his wayward confession. 

“You’ve been avoiding your soulmate on purpose, then. _You_ were the one who walled your heart off. Do you really not want to know who it is?” 

Ferdinand hated that he was seen through again and wanted it all to end quickly, for Hubert to stop toying with his mind and just properly reject him. Maybe they could properly stay friends, even then; he should give Hubert some credit in knowing how to be civil despite their colourful past. Maybe he could even give up on Hubert, and find room in his heart for another. But, he supposed, if he was in his soulmate’s shoes, he would want an apology for this farce too. So, he closed his eyes. 

“I… it behooves me to explain myself at least. I will… I will properly let them know that I am sure they are a wonderful person, and that unfortunately I have settled for making doe eyes at the most infuriating man in Fodlan instead.” 

A shifting of limbs, and suddenly, the feeling of something warm drawing close. Too close. 

“Incidentally, we are of one mind,” Hubert murmured into his ear.

Ferdinand opened his eyes. He wished he didn’t. Really, anything would have been easier to accept than the sight of Hubert’s gloveless hand, clutching onto his own. Matching red bands on both their pinkies, a seemingly endless amount of thread trailing off of them both. An undignified splutter escaped his mouth, and he jabbed his free hand accusingly against Hubert’s chest. 

“You— you knew! You lied about not having one. And you still—”

“I truly didn’t. I once had an inkling, but it seemed as soon as I was ready to open up my heart, you closed off yours, but I dared not act like a lovesick fool in public,” Hubert chuckled, his green eyes twinkling with some kind of twisted and sadistic mirth.

“I… detest you.” It was a blatant lie, evident by the shiver in his hand when he laced their fingers together, and Hubert reciprocated.

Ten years. He’d been searching for ten years, only to throw the whole puzzle away right as Hubert was finally willing to share the piece he’d hidden away. His knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. 

“That boy you trounced in the semifinals of a lance tournament, eight years ago. It was me, with a false name and a disguise and a heart full of hatred,” Hubert calmly spoke, before dragging Ferdinand’s hand to his lips, and Ferdinand’s blood straight out of his brain. “I thought I could use the chance to seriously injure you, this young spoiled lordling whose father intimidated all the lesser noble families into submission, only to be thrown on my back. And as much as I hated it, both this awful leash on my hand and your wretch of a bloodline, you continued to surprise me.” Another kiss on Ferdinand’s knuckle. 

Discontent with how one-sidedly this was playing out, Ferdinand retaliated by grabbing Hubert in a surprise attack and sending the both of them tumbling into the cushion of soft grass. He sat hunched over with his knees on either side of Hubert, who was on his back with his hands pinned to the dirt and looking unabashedly amused. 

“An interesting reversal. This is— quite improper, if we were to be stumbled upon, isn’t it?” 

“Quiet, Hubert. I am serious. I have something to ask, too.” Green eyes met amber ones, and Ferdinand felt, as dearly as he loved the man underneath him, a profound sense of sadness. Hubert’s expression twisted into a frown, but he patiently waited for Ferdinand to gather his wits.

“I feel the goddess is truly laughing at us right now, from the irony of,” Ferdinand gestured wildly with his head, “All of this. Tell me, do you really want this?”

 _Do you really want_ us?

A familiar grimace of exasperation, and something else. “I really do not know how much clearer I could be without truly throwing propriety out,” Hubert muttered, suddenly intently averting his gaze and thankfully also missing the heat rising in Ferdinand’s cheeks. His tone changed into something wistful. “But I suppose it is ironic, isn’t it, that we both completely swapped our stance.”

In a sense, this was the best possible outcome. He fell in love with his soulmate. His soulmate fell in love with him. And they both had come to that conclusion of their own volition, given their individual misgivings about being forcibly paired off by some insolent diety. It felt wrong to feel giddy, especially when he’d just let out several years worth of repressed resentment against the goddess and her choice in suitors for him (anyone who was not Hubert), only to find out he was the game she had been dangling in front of his face all this time.

“I just wish either of us was more sensible and said something sooner to spare the both of us the trouble,” Ferdinand mused. He extracted himself from Hubert, feeling too embarrassed in case someone really did pass by at this ungodly hour to see them. He did miss the feeling of Hubert’s hand in his own, but instead settled for lying down on his back by Hubert’s side. The stars looked beautiful, but Ferdinand could hardly pay attention to them with Hubert’s shoulder pressed against his own.

“Perhaps, but we are bound to endlessly cause trouble for each other, don’t we.” He wasn’t sure who moved first, but once again their hands found each other and held on, tight. “And I’ve always relished overcoming the worst of setbacks. It is a reward in itself.” 

“I would agree normally, but after all this time, I find myself wanting a reward that’s a bit more… tangible.” Ferdinand turned his head, ever so slightly, and to his delight and racing heart he found Hubert studying him quite intently. 

Chafed lips met his own, and Ferdinand noted that day that his new favourite shade of red could be found on the sharp features of one Hubert von Vestra, flushed and gasping for breath.

That flimsy, overgrown thread couldn’t even begin to compare.

**Author's Note:**

> [\+ and a bonus doodle! ](https://i.imgur.com/YpWzYuD.png)
> 
> apologies for it being late, and also the blatant violation of the word count, but this prompt spiralled into a mini-monster that i realised i couldn't fit into 4k words. i truly could not trim this any more than i already have... i have a lot more written that didn't make the cut, so there may or may not be a small prequel and/or sequel to this, but it absolutely is edited to be read stand-alone.
> 
> \o/ if you got here, thank you so much for reading! (please come talk to me about ferbie :pleading emoji:


End file.
